Pick Up My Pieces
by RedLion2
Summary: Relena thinks about life after Heero, and wonders if she will ever be able to move on. 3xR


Bandai holds the rights to _Gundam Wing_ and its fascinating characters.

Because I'm having trouble getting my head around my other two _Gundam Wing_ stories, I decided to write a one-shot based on a pairing that I like but haven't thus far written anything on. Without further adieu...

Pick Up My Pieces

I am tired. So tired, of everything. Nothing even seems to make sense anymore. I am the Vice Foreign Minister. And what is that, exactly? A title. Honestly, that's all it really means to me now. I know no one sees past that wonderfully sweet political face I show the world everyday. I don't _let_ them see past it. And there is no one I really trust. No any more. Not since Heero.

The day he was shot still plays through my mind, every day, in agonizing clarity. He was killed protecting me. And I know, had he to do it over again, he would still make that choice to leap in front of that bullet. Some say it was out of sense of duty. He was doing his job. Only I, and a few chosen others, know differently. We loved each other. And I tried, so hard, to push him away that day. I knew, somehow, in my soul, that he wasn't going to be okay this time. But my strength was never near enough to his. I couldn't push him away. I still can't.

My friends are worried about me. They call me. They take me out when my schedule allows, which isn't often. But there's no joy in it for me, anyway. Hilde says my heart will heal. But will it? Who has the courage to sweep up the pieces and put them back together? I feel like Humpty Dumpty, for crying out loud. But I know she, and the others, mean well. And maybe someday, I will let someone else in. But he would be held to high standards. Heero Yuy was an exceptional man. Maybe _too_ exceptional.

I should be sleeping, but instead find myself wandering around this old mansion again. A museum. A prison. Maybe I should move out. Get away from the memories. I see Heero everywhere. And maybe, just maybe, he can still see me. Would he want me this miserable? Of course not. He told me once that should something happen to him, he wanted me to move on. Some days, I don't ever want to. Just let me struggle in my sadness. Let me drown.

But drowning is scary. At least, it looks scary. I don't want to do that. But is there anyone to rescue me? I said before there's no one I trust. That was a lie. A half-truth, at any rate. There _is_ someone I can cling to, when I need to. He is my bodyguard now, and actually, one of the few people who knows me for me. I count him as a dear friend, and perhaps more. Oh, I do fantasize about us being together, and they are so sweet, but then I see those steely, beautiful Prussian blues, and my fantasies die away, and I am cold again.

I walk into the massive living room and stop. My last kiss with Heero was here, by the huge bay window. I can't hardly stand to be in this room. I feel the tears forming and with a hateful hand wipe them away. With this reaction, you must think Heero's death was recently. But it wasn't. Heero Yuy died three years ago. So why haven't I moved on? Because I haven't been ready. At age twenty-five all I've wanted to do is wallow in self-pity and loathing. He would be here if not for me. But that argument has steadily been losing steam. Heero knew what that bullet would cost him. And yet he readily stepped out in front of it, bravely and strongly.

And maybe now, finally, it's my turn to be brave and strong. To step out of a past that's shadowed with guilt and remorse. I have to get on with my life. Maybe, even, change careers...

"Lena."

His voice is quiet, but I hear the strength. That strength has gotten me through the last three years. I turn, not attempting to hide the left-over tears that I know are wounding my eyes. I do attempt to smile, because I want to please him, but he's above all that. He comes to me, and with gentle arms, holds me. Tight, but not hard. There's a difference, and he knows it.

I lay my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeats. Where would I be without him? He's always so patient and kind. Gentle. I know some people think he has no emotions, because he wears a stoic mask. But I see past that, as he sees past my political façade. A sniffle escapes me and he gives me a squeeze of comfort. And just like that, I feel better. I pull back, just a little, just so I can see his eyes. Eyes so deeply green that I feel as if I'm surrounded by an emerald field, wider than I can ever see the end of.

"Thank you," I whisper, watching his eyes (or rather, one eye – even now, he insists on hiding his right eye behind that long bang) darken and he does smile, a sweet little thing that I'm positive no one else has seen. And that makes me feel absolutely special.

"You're welcome." His voice is heavy, caring, and I suddenly and violently realize that I have fallen in love with him. Have I never noticed that before? Have I always loved him in some way? No, no. Heero was always my love, my first true love. Trowa has become special, a part of me, over the past three years. And I have become a part of him. I can see that in his gaze.

And we could tell each other that, but why? Why, when we already know it? Does there always have to be words? No, I don't think so. Not between two people who feel this deeply, whose souls are touching. He leans down, his lips seeking, searching, and I stretch upward, lessening his trouble. And then there's sweetness, pleasure, crazy, wild, and I feel like I'm going to fall, so far, so deep...

But I'm not afraid. I trust him. He is not just my bodyguard. He guards my heart, my mind, and tortures my soul with every kiss, every look. But I can take that. I know I do the same to him. So now, where do we go? He will go wherever I want. He has said as much. So where? I want out of this life. I want to know what exists beyond the television cameras.

And still, I am Vice Foreign Minister. One can hardly drop such a position and run. He tells me I can, that he will support me. And I know that. But for now, I do my title and don't really complain. I have him. I have his love and affection and protection.

So I will stay, until a replacement is elected. And I know Trowa is there, in the shadowed background, those scorching green eyes watching, taking care of me. And I make him a silent, solemn vow: he will never have to walk into a bullet for me.


End file.
